


The Butterfly Effect

by MaxWrite



Category: Fringe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-24
Updated: 2010-05-24
Packaged: 2017-10-18 13:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/189469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaxWrite/pseuds/MaxWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Astrid's life choices have her wondering if she took a wrong turn somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Butterfly Effect

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [The Butterfly](http://www.fairytalescollection.com/Hans_Christian_Anderson/The_Butterfly.htm) by Hans Christian Andersen.

Astrid had dreamed of doing a lot of things with her life; falling in love and having a family someday, all while fast-tracking it up through the ranks of the Bureau. Maybe that wasn't possible. Maybe the perfect home life simply couldn't coexist with the perfect FBI career. But she'd been willing to try at least.

Moving in with the Bishops had not been part of her plans and did not seem at all conducive to … anything, really.

It was a very gray day. Warm enough, but the sun hadn't shown itself at all yet, and it was nearly seven p.m. She wondered if that was some kind of omen and eyed the dingy-looking sky wearily as she carried the last of her boxes into the Bishops' house.

"PETER!" came Walter's frantic cries from the second level of the house. Peter, however, appeared to be moving away from his father's voice, coming down the stairs rather than heading up them.

"He's fine," Peter said, answering Astrid's questioning look. "He's just going over all the pros and cons of the larger room with the one big window verses the smaller one with three."

"But I've already chosen the larger room."

"He knows," said Peter with a sigh as he took the box from her.

"Peter!" cried Walter as he hurried down the stairs. "Peter, I've been taking some measurements, and while it _looks_ as though the larger room is the logical choice, I believe that, due to its shape – oh." Walter came to a shuffling halt next to Peter and smiled brightly at Astrid. "Hello, Agent Farnsworth."

"Hello, Walter," said Astrid with a knowing smile. "You forgot I was here, didn't you?"

Walter's smile faltered as he tried to remember.

"She's been here for hours," said Peter, turning and heading for the stairs. "We've been helping her unload the last of her things, remember? That's what all those boxes upstairs are. Shut the door and come help."

Walter obediently shut the front door, then leaned in close to Astrid and murmured, "I've got a surprise for you. A housewarming gift, if you will."

Astrid smiled. "You didn't have to do that."

"Of course I did," he replied as though it should have been obvious. "You gave me a gift when Peter and I moved in."

"Yes, but it's your house."

"Oh, but it's yours too now, isn't it? Come!" He scurried away, back toward the stairs. "I've been setting it up in your new room. Come, come, come!"

With a smile and a shake of her head, Astrid followed Walter upstairs. When he reached the top, he turned the wrong way. She was about to call out to him to tell him her room was off to the right, not the left, but then something inside her new bedroom caught her eye.

Peter was inside, helpfully arranging her boxes based on their labels, but what drew Astrid's attention was a collection of small, square picture frames on her desk. There were about 15 of them and they were spread out and laid upside down, like large memory game cards. She approached to have a closer look.

"I wouldn't touch those," Peter warned. "That's Walter's super secret project. He's been working on it for months, even before you agreed to move in. He'd disappear for hours and when he'd get back, he wouldn't tell me what he'd done or where he'd been. And then he'd go hide in the basement for another couple of hours, popping up for snacks and bathroom breaks."

"Didn't that concern you?"

"A little. But he's a big boy now. Gotta let my little baby bird fly sometime. Anyway, he told me it was a present for you, so I figured it probably wasn't a bomb or, I dunno, portal to another reality or something."

Astrid surveyed the upside-down frames, wondering what in the world they could be. "He hasn't managed to take this many pictures of me, and the ones he has managed to get have all been terrible … Wait …" She looked sidelong at Peter. "I am _aware_ of all the pictures he's managed to take of me, aren't I?"

Peter chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets and moving toward her. "Yeah, I think so. He hasn't resorted to stealth photography yet, but I'm pretty sure that if he does, I'll be the victim. Hey, lemmie ask you something; you're a young, attractive women. Brilliant, great career … what in the name of all that is good and holy makes you wanna move in here?"

"You asked me to, remember?"

"Yeah, but I never expected you to say yes, and frankly now that you have, I'm not so sure I approve."

She smiled and put a hand on her hip. "I beg your pardon? Now you don't want me here."

"No, no, that's not what I meant. Look, I needed extra help taking care of him, and you and he seem to have developed a weird bond – which, by the way, is a little frightening at times. I'm definitely glad to have you here, but … well, you could be doing other things."

"Like having a life of my own?"

"Exactly. Why'd you agree to this?"

With a sigh, Astrid looked around her room. It was large enough, she supposed, but certainly nothing compared to the entire apartment that she'd given up to come here. These four walls were now the only space that was truly her own.

"Umm …" she began.

"Second thoughts?"

"I know what you're thinking; what happens when I meet someone and fall in love, right? Well, I considered that, and I figure it'll all just sort of … work out or … something."

Peter arched an eyebrow at her.

"It's not like there are any prospects on the horizon anyway. The last guy who asked me out still lived at home with his mother, and –"

She instantly realized her mistake. Peter shifted his stance a bit, crossed his arms and gave her his very best "explain yourself" expression. No one could furrow a brow like Peter.

"You and Walter are different," she quickly added. "He needs you." She was pretty sure Peter needed Walter too, but she wasn't about to say so. "And he needs me too. So here I am."

Peter nodded, looking thoughtful. "Listen, I may not have been working on a super secret, slightly creepy basement project for you, but I do appreciate everything you do for us. You know that, right? Frankly, I'm not sure what I'd do without you and … well … thank you."

Peter wasn't the most sentimental guy in the world. Astrid decided that a hug right then would probably be just over the thin line of Peter's affection tolerance level. So instead, she gave him a soft punch on the arm and replied, "I'm happy to do it. Especially for you and Walter."

He smiled and his shoulders seemed to relax a little. "Good. I mean thanks. I mean … it's good to have you here. And I hope you remember this warm, fuzzy feeling the first time you find one of Walter's experiments festering in the fridge next to your ramen."

Astrid wanted to tell him that she'd already had that experience several times over in the lab, but just then the doorbell rang and Peter went to answer it. A moment later, Walter reappeared with six more little picture frames.

"You haven't touched those, have you?" he asked, setting them down with the others.

"No, I didn't touch your picture frames. Walter, what is all this?"

Walter beamed at her. "Your surprise."

Astrid eyed the frames warily. "You know, I remember the last time you were this excited about surprising me with something. This won't be a repeat of that, will it?"

"Ah, you're referring to the moth. That was an accident, the result of an optic-nerve scrambling electromagnetic pulse, and unless you happened to bring one with you, I don't think you've anything to be concerned about."

"Uh-huh," Astrid said, leaning forward and peering uncertainly at the frames.

"Okay, go ahead, have a look. This one." Walter tapped the frame he wanted her to turn over first. She reached out for it.

"WAIT!" Walter snapped. Astrid jumped and retracted her hand.

"Walter! You scared me half to death! What is it?"

"Not that one." Walter tapped a different one. "This one first, I think."

With a sigh, she reached for that one.

"No, wait!"

"Walter, I swear to god –"

"No, no, I was correct the first time. Apologies. This one." He tapped the first one again. "Definitely this one. Yes."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but did as he'd instructed and carefully picked up the frame he'd indicated.

"You know," Walter said with a little snorting laugh, "it's funny you should mention the moth, actually …"

Astrid stopped just as she was about to turn the frame over and looked sidelong at him. "Why?"

Without a word, he made a little spinning gesture with his finger, telling her to turn the frame over. She hesitantly did so, and what she found inside the frame was the very species of large, blue butterfly that Walter had thought he'd brought her during the moth incident.

A smile spread across her face as she turned over one frame after another, revealing big butterflies and small ones, spotted ones and iridescent ones, in shades of sunny yellow and sky blue, spring green and blood red.

"Walter …" she whispered. "When did you do this?"

"It's taken me quite a while. It was going to be a birthday present for you, but I thought this was an even more appropriate occasion."

"Walter," she repeated, looking up at him.

He took a step toward her, lowered his voice a bit and said, "I know this is hardly the ideal situation for you. I know you're only here because Peter needed your help. For me."

"Walter, no –"

He shook his head. "Astrid," he interrupted her, and hearing him say her name correctly made her stop. "I am aware that I can be … a handful. You've had to put up with a great deal from me over the years, and I fear things have been rather unbalanced; you've allowed me to lean on you far more often than you've been able to lean on me, and I'm sorry for that. You've been a dear friend. I'm fortunate and grateful that you put up with me."

Every now and then, the clarity in Walter's eyes, in his voice, was shocking, his awareness sharp as a knife blade and just as difficult to handle. Astrid didn't know what to say. She wanted to tell him it was fine, that he shouldn't worry, but she thought she might cry, and she didn't trust her voice not to betray that. He seemed to sense that, once again displaying that uncanny ability he sometimes had to know exactly what she needed; he reached out and touched her arm, giving it a little squeeze, and he gave her a single nod. She didn't need to say a word. She simply nodded back and tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

"She's up here with Walter," she heard Peter's voice say as it drew closer. She quickly dabbed at her eyes and wondered who he was speaking to. A moment later, Peter stepped into the doorway, followed Olivia.

"Hey," Olivia said with a smile.

"Agent Dunham," Walter said brightly. "Are you joining us for dinner tonight?"

"Yep." She stepped inside, toward Astrid. "Nice place."

"Thanks," Astrid said, her voice a little shaky, which Peter seemed to notice.

"Walter, what'd you do to her?" he playfully asked, and then he finally noticed the butterflies strewn across her desk. He didn't say a word, and neither did Olivia when she followed Peter's gaze. They both looked at Walter with mildly surprised approval, and Walter quietly beamed at them, his cheeks filling with color.

"We're gonna start making dinner," Peter told Astrid. "You can come and help if you like. Or you can just watch us make a horrible mess if you'd prefer."

"I'll be down in a bit," she said with a nod, dropping her eyes to the floor to hide the emotion in them.

"I'll join you in a minute," Olivia told Peter before he stepped out again. Walter was about to follow, but Astrid stopped him, reaching out and grabbing a handful of his cardigan sleeve. She didn't say a word as she pulled him into a tight hug.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be," she whispered. He said nothing, but she could feel his response in the little squeeze he gave her, in the way he seemed to cling.

"Oh, hang on!" he said suddenly, pulling away and scurrying out into the hall. Astrid heard him rummaging around in the hall closet and shot Olivia a confused look, which Olivia returned. When he came back, he was carrying a big red toolbox.

"We've got a hammer!" he said with a kind of enthusiasm that didn't normally accompany the arrival of a toolbox. "And I made sure to get lots of those little hooks for hanging pictures so you can arrange your collection any way you choose." He gestured grandly and proudly at the walls. He then put the toolbox down on the floor. "We can do that later. I'll help you if you like."

"I'd like that very much," Astrid said softly.

Walter grinned. "Excellent! I'm going downstairs to help Peter."

"We'll be down in a minute," Olivia assured him. He left the room without a word, just a sheepish little smile and a glance back at Astrid before he exited.

"Walter caught all these for you?" Olivia asked, sounding impressed as she surveyed the butterflies.

"He did," Astrid replied.

Olivia gave her a knowing little smile. "You sound a little overwhelmed."

"I am." Astrid shook her head. "I was not expecting this. I was questioning my decision to come here, but those two …" She shook her finger at the doorway as though the Bishops were standing in it. "I think I made the right decision after all."

"So, you really think you'll be happy here," Olivia said. "It's not exactly the ideal situation, is it?"

"No, it's not. But somehow …"

Astrid glanced around the room again. Suddenly it didn't seem quite so cramped. The sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds for the final hour or so that it had left in the sky, and the room was now filled with soft, golden light. Light and butterflies.

"Yeah," she said, looking at Olivia again. "I'm pretty sure this is where I belong."

END


End file.
